


What's Tomorrow Without You?

by keelover



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Iron Man (Comic), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Attempted Murder, Backstory, Black Widow Opps, Christmas, Corporate Espionage, Disguise, Emotional Manipulation, Espionage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Minor Character Death, Murder, New Years, Past Relationship(s), Rape/Non-con References, Red Room, Russian Mafia, Sexual Content, Soviet Union, Violence, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelover/pseuds/keelover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a heinous memory resurfaces, Natasha is driven back to Russia in order to exact revenge on the man who took everything away from her. Pepper is sent on a meeting with Cord Industries new CEO, and things get complicated quickly thereafter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Tomorrow Without You?

**Author's Note:**

> This story has reference to past assault, physical and mental torture.
> 
> This story also has violence typical of comic books, and Natasha's more unrestrained past.
> 
> Murder plays a heavy theme throughout.

**December 23rd, 2012:**  
 **Moscow, Russia.  
15:00**

The reflection staring back at her was not a face Natasha recognized easily as she put in colored contacts, blue eyes disguised as brown. The black wig she wore was styled in a short bob, fringe cut straight across her brow.She wasn’t someone she recognized, but this mission wasn’t about recognition. No; it was about peeling back the layers of her past, and most importantly, revenge. The floorboard creaked, and she didn’t hesitate in removing the .22 stashed within the drawer of her dresser. 

“[It’s Feodor, little spider.]”

Natasha stood to her feet, moving to the bathroom to secure a robe before heading towards the door. She looked through the peephole before unlocking the deadbolt, leaving the chain secured. “[What have I told you about calling me that, you idiot?]” Feodor smiled, voice deep as he chuckled. He was missing one of his front teeth, something Natasha may or may not have had a hand, or fist, in. “[Your breath reeks of alcohol.]”

“[Vodka has no scent.]”

“[Beer does, you dog.]”

Feodor tossed a pair of keys at her.“[Just letting you know that Solntsevskaya bravat welcomes you with open arms after what you did for Viktor. There’s a present outside for you.]”

“[Will it get me where I need to go?]”

“[More or less.]”

Natasha slammed the door in his face, moving back towards the bedroom of the apartment she was occupying. She hated making deals with criminals, but the mafia had the intel she needed, and so she would bleed them dry. A chirping sound resonated as Fury’s voice interrupted her tangled web of thoughts. “Widow, what’s your position?”

Natasha pulled a thick wool dress over her head, mindful of her well placed makeup. “I could ask you the same, Nick.”

“I’ve got my men posted from Volgograd to Krasnoarmeyskiy. If her body’s there, they’ll find it.”

Natasha smoothed her hands down the front of her mink-collar cashmere coat. Her heart began to race, and she hated herself for it. After all of these years...“Yuri would have kept her body close to the Volga.”

“How do you know he didn’t just cast her body in the goddamn river?”

Natasha flinched, strapping the knife in her hand around the mid of her calf. “He couldn’t have...that time of year, the water’s frozen.”

“I’m not tryin’ to be insensitive, ‘Tas, it’s just that, well, it’s been sixty-five years.”

Natasha stashed two .22’s under her coat, placing a third in her purse. “Yuri’s resurfaced after thirty years. And I want him _dead_ , but before I can do that, I need to find her.”

“And knowin’ you, you’ll get your wish, Widow, but clear your head a bit, will ya? You’re headin’ into a five star hotel filled with innocents, and you’re not on S.H.I.E.L.D.S paygrade no more. We’re doin’ you a favor, don’t burn our hands.”

“The last thing you need to worry about is me.”

“We’ve all lost someone we loved, ‘Tas.”

Natasha grabbed the set of keys Feodor had tossed her, bottom lip trembling as a surge of anger gripped her. “Not the way I lost her.”

Her heels clicked softly down the hall, the elderly couple two doors down waved, offering her a cup of hot tea. She politely declined their offer, her face never betraying the chaos that raged inside. Three flights of stairs brought her to the lowest level, snow crunching underneath her boots as she came to stand in front of a 2001 Redstar. An excellent, if but slow traditional motorbike, used mainly for short distances and touring. 

“[Bastards.]”

Natasha secured her trapper’s hat over her head, weather resilient goggles strapped across her ears as she straddled the cold seat, starting the ignition as she revved the engine. The Marriott was less than a ten minute commute, clientele most often elite businessmen and women. Natasha parked in front of the Petrovsky Passage, a high end shop close to the hotel, observing her surroundings before carrying on her way, fake identification tucked into a pick locking kit disguised as a wallet. The seven story building encased one hundred and ninety-five rooms, thirty-six of those suites. She walked soundlessly in through the entrance, face held high as she glanced up through the skylight, clouds swirling and gray.

She moved towards the check-in counter, confidence in every step she took, hand extended as she introduced herself. “Elizabeth Carter, Gynacon liaison. I’m here to meet with a Mr. Glukhov.”

The receptionists name tag read Sergei, fingers gliding over the keyboard with a precision that could only come from repetition. “Mr. Glukhov isn’t due to check in for another twenty minutes or so.”

“No worries, then, darling. I have no trouble waiting.” Natasha turned, a coy smirk quirked at the edge of her mouth as she carried onward. 

Three steps in, and she came face-to-face with her intended target. She was sickened to see that he hadn’t aged a day. In that moment, she felt as though she were thirteen years old again, fighting for her life and her motherland in a Stalinist Russia. “Mr. Glukhov?”

His dark eyes narrowed down at her, making her feel small and weak like she used to. “Sorry, you must have me mistaken with someone else,” he said, grumbling as he aimed to move past her. Natasha was ready to end it all there, quick, easy and efficient, even though she knew she couldn’t; not with the pheromones that protected him from his former wards. When she spotted the woman behind him, her heart stopped. She was clad in an off-the-shoulder jacket and long pencil skirt, red hair tied back as Natasha froze. 

“Didn’t we meet once in Cambridge? On holiday, I believe?”

Pepper’s luminous green eyes widened, passphrase initiated, she realized who stood in front of her. “Yes! The Fitzwilliam museum.” Confirmation concluded, Natasha embraced her, removing the keycard tucked into her breast pocket. 

“Well, it was quite lovely seeing you, but I’ve got a meeting to keep as I’m sure you do, too.”

Pepper kept a calm and collected face as she smiled sweetly. “You, too.”

Natasha made her way towards the elevator, stepping inside she glanced down at the keycard in hand. Top floor, presidential suite. “ _Shit_.” What was Pepper doing here? And more importantly, what was she doing meeting with Yuri?

The elevator dinged before the doors opened, and Natasha stalked quietly down the hall, aware of her surroundings as the disruptor in her purse scrambled the security cameras reception as she let herself in, closing the door quietly behind her. She opened a second pair of doors, taking in the smaller room with a single desk, coffee table, two chairs and a sofa. She peered out the window, looking for anything and everything, suspicious and not before taking a seat. Yuri’s face brought up painful memories, memories she had fought with since they had resurfaced. A warm trail of tears washed down her face, and she wondered if he knew who Pepper was; if he remembered the color of those eyes. 

Three hours past before Pepper surfaced, face flushed, body tense as she refused to sit down. “That’s a nice English accent you’ve got there, _Elizabeth_.” She removed her heels, chucking them aside in a manner she didn’t normally. 

“Thanks.”

Pepper took the clip out of her hair, long strands flowing past her shoulder blades as she paced across the carpet. “What are you doing here?” she asked, finally. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Not to me. You finally decide to crawl out of your little hole in Arizona, and this is where you pop up; in disguise, no less.”

“How do you know Rybalko?”

Pepper shot her a glare, hands positioned on her hips. “He’s the one you’re after, isn’t he? Are you working for S.H.I.E.LD again?”

“They’re doing me a favor, now answer the question: What do you know about Rybalko? Why are you meeting with him?”

Pepper tilted her head, looking up at the ceiling as her jaw stiffened. “He’s CEO of Cord Industries. This is a business meeting.”

“You need to be careful, Pepper,” Natasha said, moving to her feet. She towered over Pepper in her heeled boots, fingers dancing along Pepper’s shoulder as she flinched away. 

“Don’t start that.”

“Yuri Rybalko is not to be trusted, do you understand?”

“Do you really think I would trust anyone in charge of Cord Industries? What is this, business or personal?”

Natasha’s eyes softened, she was responsible for Pepper’s anger. “Personal.”

Pepper met her gaze. “Are you here to kill him?”

“I’m here to make sure he pays for his crimes.”

“What crimes?”

Natasha held her tongue, thinking over her options. “Do you know who Vita Voloshin was?”

“No.”

Natasha sighed. “Well, you should. Vita Voloshin was the younger sister of Oksana Voloshin and the mother of Marco Voloshin, a Ukrainian Jew whose mother, father, two brothers, and younger sister were wiped out in a single night. Vita was recruited into the war with the promise that her sister and her son would be sent to Central Asia to wait it out.”

“Natasha...”

Natasha raised her hand, pleading for silence.“She was recruited into the Red Room when it was still experimental; headed by the NKVD, and future KGB leader, Yuri Rybalko. Vita Voloshin, also known as the Black Orchid, survived the war, but died at the hands of our handler.”

“Natasha, what does this have to do with me?”

“Oksana and Marco Voloshin were put in contact with allied forces before the Cold War began. They were given a new life as Ana and Marcus Valentine in New York City.”

“Marcus...”

“Ana raised Marcus, but never had any children of her own. Marcus went on to have two daughters; Victoria and Talia Valentine. Victoria Valentine died in a car accident on her sixteenth birthday. Talia went on to marry a man by the name of Nathaniel Potts. The couple had one daughter before divorcing in nineteen eighty-five.”

Pepper’s hand dropped down away from her mouth. “ _Me_.”

“My memories were falsified. It took me years to find your grandfather, and by extension, you. I couldn’t remember what had happened to her, or who had done it, until the night I packed my things and left.”

“I don’t understand,” Pepper said. “My grandfather was born in nineteen forty-two.”

“Marco Voloshin was born nine months after the Germans invaded Kiev.” 

Pepper dropped down onto the sofa, hand held over her eyes. “Oh, no. _No_.”

“Your great grandmother loved your grandfather regardless of what happened to her. If it helps, she got her revenge. We made sure of it.”

Pepper gasped, trying to catch her breath. “ _No_.”

“She’s why I’m here today,” Natasha said as she took Pepper’s hand into her own. “There are a lot of painful things your grandfather has kept inside of him for his entire life. When he looks at you, even now, he sees a little girl he used to put on his knee and bounce around.”

Pepper looked up at her with tears in her eyes. “And you?”

“You’re a woman I’ve know for a long time now, Pepper Potts. A woman I know and trust, and love. You’ve been kept in the dark for a long time, too long, but now you know, and I need to know what you plan to do, _Virginia_.” 

Pepper sat back, hand held over her chest. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

Natasha looked down at her watch, grimacing. “I’m pressed for time,” she said, taking out a piece of paper and a pen. “Meet me at this location after your dinner with Yuri, make sure no one knows where you’re going or who you’re meeting with. Get there fast, keep your surroundings in check.”

“How’d...”

“I knew Yuri was meeting with a client of some sort, but I had no idea it would be you. This changes everything...”

“Why?” Pepper asked as she followed Natasha’s lead, and up to her feet.

“Why do you think?”

Pepper grabbed her arm, turning Natasha around to face her. “If I’m going to do this, you’re going to tell me why.”

Natasha cupped Pepper’s cheek in her hand, remorseful for Pepper’s broken heart. “Because I love you. Now get ready, you have a new part to play.”

Natasha chose the rooftop as her means of escape, night had fallen, and she needed the small dose of adrenaline it provided, jumping from high altitudes, real and present danger to those not as experienced as she; heels tucked away in her purse. Through a small alleyway, she emerged, collected as she spotted her bike, ignoring the stares that came from a flock of old rich men, and their soon to be male order brides. Those men thought those women were meek, subservient to their every wish and need; they were wrong. Those women, no matter how young, how frightened, were calculating; biding their time. Men like that, they made her sick. She made note to remember all of their faces. 

Natasha felt as though someone was watching her, and so she parked a block or so away, crawling up the fire escape, and breaking in through the window. Her socks were thick, gloves breathable, but the ice made everything tedious and tricky. “[Only me again, little spider.]”

Feodor sat on the sofa adjacent from her bed, bottle in hand as he flipped through channel after channel, even though there were less than ten stations that came through clearly. “[What are you doing here?]” Natasha demanded, removing her coat, but keeping her shoulder holsters on as she stared him down.

Feodor held up his hands, beer sloshing around. “[Someone was snooping, I came to turn on the lights.]”

“[Who? Who was snooping?]”

“[You know that problem you helped to rid of?]” 

“[What about him?]”

“[He has a brother. No problem, though, I scared him off. Put on porno just like dear old brother did.]”

“[I swear, if you--]”

“[No, no. No doing that.]”

Natasha didn’t have to tell him to leave; Feodor taking it upon himself to exit. Natasha fixed her window, setting more security measures before stripping out of her disguise. Dialing Fury, she sat down in front of her dresser, tired green eyes staring back at her. “Damn it, do you know what time it is here, ‘Tas?”

“Don’t pretend like you sleep.”

“What do you’ve got, Widow?”

“A problem.”

“What kinds of problem?”

“A Pepper problem.”

Natasha heard him hiss through the otherside. “You’re kiddin’ me.”

“Yuri’s covering as Cord Industries new CEO. Pepper suspects him of fraud, but there’s a lot more to it than industrial espionage.”

“You tell her to pack her bags, and get the hell outta the country?”

“No. I’m using her to get out of Yuri what I couldn’t; dates and times.”

“That’s a real big risk you’re takin’.”

“She can handle herself.”

“Yeah, well, so could her great grandma, but you saw how that turned out.”

“It’s different this time.”

“And how’s that?”

Natasha studied her face now that it was void of deception; remorseful and tired. “I won’t help him.”

Fury huffed. “You’re not gonna like what I’ve gotta tell ya, ‘Tas.”

“You know I hate when you hold information back from me, Nick.”

“It appears Yuri’s not flyin’ solo.”

“I knew going in that he had ties to the mafia.”

“Well, not just that. We’ve got a Tatiana Rybalko.”

Natasha scowled. “Wife?”

“Daughter.”

“How old?”

“Just celebrated her twenty-second birthday not three days ago.”

“That sick bastard would have a child that young.”

“He only looks about forty, what the hell’s stoppin’ him?”

“But he’s not,” Nastasha stressed. “Born in 1917, he’s pushing ninety-six soon.”

“There’s more than that, ‘Tas. She’s not in any secure housing. Not with Yuri’s secret militia, or the mafia.”

“Then where’s she being kept?”

“Bolshoi. Seems she’s the lead in the Nutcracker.”

“Marie...”

“That would be the one.”

A tear slid down her cheek, false memories playing through her mind; reality making her physically ill. “This changes nothing,” she said, ending their call. 

 

**December 24th, 2012:**  
 **Moscow, Russia.  
21:00**

“[What can I get you?]” asked a woman with dark curly brown hair, lip pierced twice in the center as she served drinks.

“[Mukuzani’s fine.]”

“[Whatever you want, Miss...I don’t believe I caught your name.]”

Natasha smiled, charmed by the young woman and her obvious flirting. “Alana,” she said, shaking her hand in a graceful manner. 

“Maria.”

Natasha thanked her for the drink, careful not to walk so stiff, willing her body to ease in the low-key atmosphere. The blonde wig she wore was long, well past her waist; garnering her a lot of attention. “[I love your jacket,]” another woman said, taking a seat beside her. The plush cushion sunk in as she crossed one tan leg over the other, black dress sliding up past her thigh.

Natasha batted a lash, fingers smoothing over her leopard print fur coat. “[This old thing?]”

“[Old or not, you wear it very well.]”

“[And what’s your name?]”

The brunette smirked, dark eyes seductive. “[Anastasia.]”

“[Beautiful name. Classic.]” Anastasia blushed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she appeared sweet, but she wasn’t the one Nastasha was looking for.

The green colored contacts she wore weren’t merely for aesthetics, Natasha noted, zooming in on the exact moment Pepper walked in through the entrance. She knew it was her the instant she ambled in through the crowd; appearing lost and confused with the added touch of scandalized. While it wasn’t easy being a lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, transexual, or anything in between in Russia, it wasn’t impossible. Pepper looked out of place in her long red double-face coat and navy blue bustier; all business, no desire. 

Pepper caught Natasha’s eye, drawing her attention away from Anastasia beside her. Natasha strode to meet her, glass in hand as all eyes fell on them. “Haven’t we met before?” she asked with a turn of her head. 

“This place was near impossible to find.”

“But you found it, so cheer up. Drink?”

Pepper shook her head, removing her gloves. “I don’t have the same tolerance as you do.”

Natasha smiled as she took a hold of Pepper’s hand, guiding her to a more secluded part of the building. “Not many do.”

Pepper licked her lips, smoothing her fingers through her hair. “Why here?” she asked, taking in the musicians, the dark and mysterious atmosphere, and sensual underground. 

“It’s well secluded, and no man seeking a woman would be welcomed through those doors.”

Pepper eyed her. “I’m not too fond of the leather.”

“I couldn’t exactly pull Elizabeth Carter out of my closet again, now could I?”

“Hm.”

“How are you not freezing?” she asked, sliding her hand up along Pepper’s leg, keeping her close; protected. 

“You said this was business.” 

“And it is, but try not to look so suspicious.” 

Pepper straightened her back, taking both of Natasha’s hands into her own, kissing them as she made direct eye contact, tongue tracing over her bottom lip. “Sorry.”

Natasha’s heart sped up, seeing her after months apart was complicating her mission. “What did Yuri discuss with you over dinner last night?”

“Some bullshit story about why he couldn’t send me his companies numbers directly.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“But not all.”

“No?”

“No, he wants me to extend my stay.” Upon Natasha’s frown, she expanded further. “Until the thirty-first.” 

“Why?”

“A show at the Bolshoi: The Nutcracker.” 

Natasha tensed, hands squeezing Pepper’s as she caught her breath; nauseated. “He wants to take you to the Bolshoi Theater on one of the most important holidays of the year?”

“Apparently. I assume he wants to try and sweeten the deal.”

Natasha’s a brilliant tactician in that she worked fast, variables sliding into place within a matter of seconds. “Okay, here’s what you do. You spend the rest of your time here as planned. Accept his offer, no doubt he’ll have seats occupied in the imperial box. When the second act begins, simply get up to use the restroom. In the chaos, I’ll handle the rest. Do you understand?”

Pepper laid her head in the palm of her hand, elbow rested on the back of the loveseat. She was doing an admirable job at pretending like she wasn’t alarmed. “You plan to kill him during his daughters performance?”

Natasha grimaced. “Don’t let him fool you into thinking he has a heart capable of love; he doesn’t.” She moved to stand, objective completed, it was time to go. 

Pepper caught a hold of her sleeve, green eyes peering up at her; they were an exact replica of her great grandmothers. “Tomorrow’s Christmas.”

“Here it’s not.”

“For me and, by extension you, it is. What are your plans?”

Natasha helped Pepper up, arms wrapping around the mid of her waist as she drew her close. “I grew up in an era of tyrannical rule. There was no faith, no holidays. I learned a few rituals from Vita and Vera; Jewish and Roman Catholic traditions. Those have no place in what I’m doing here.” 

Pepper looked down and away, dropping her hand. “There’s so much more to you, you know? The life we had before.” She paused for a moment, blinking rapidly. “ _Goodnight_ , Natasha.”

Natasha followed Pepper back to her hotel, changing clothes in between. A detour was made as she realized she was being followed; there was no way for her to outrun whoever they were, and so she settled for a diversion, leading them to a secluded park just outside the city limits. Her weapon was drawn, aimed at the driver side window as she ordered them out. A man about six foot tall appeared, cigarette hung loose in between his lips. Within a blink of an eye, he was armed, opening fire on her. Unfortunately for him, Natasha was quicker. 

“[Count yourself lucky you even got a shot off.]”

“[A woman mocking me,]” he said, words cut off as Natasha pressed down on his windpipe with her forearm, holding a .22 fitted with a silencer to his temple. 

“[This woman is about to kill you unless you tell me why you’re here.]”

A smile washed over his pale face, eyes bloodshot. “[That would be a leak.”]

Natasha pressed down harder. “[Who?]”

“[Ivan’s brother, Sasha.]”

“[What does he know?]” she demanded.

He gasped for breath. “[Only...only that you killed his brother.]”

“[Where’s Sasha now?]”

“[Some hole in the wall...in, in Solntsevo.]”

“[What’s your name?]”

“[Stephan.]”

“[Well, Stephan, I don’t feel like you’re telling me the entire truth.]”

Stephan’s eyes welled, pulse racing. “[No! _No_!]” he screamed. “[Please!]”

Natasha took another detour, taking the elevator in the apartment down to the basement, catching Feodor off guard as he stepped out of the shower. “[Where’s Sasha?]”

Feodor’s chest was covered in tattoo’s, each piece detailing his entire history as a criminal. “[What are you talking about?]” he asked.

“[Ivan’s brother, you wet dog.]”

“[Oh,]” he said. “[That brother.]”

“[Don’t try my patiences.]”

“[Some place just outside Elektrostal.]” 

“[If I find out you’re another leak, there won’t be a stake high enough to mount your head on.]”

“[Gotcha. Gotcha.]”

Natasha’s clothes were wet and freezing as she stripped them off. She turned the heat on high, toweling her hair dry as she contacted Fury. “You’re late.”

“I had a problem.”

“Taken care of?”

“Partly. Any sign of her body?”

“None. We’ve found a few abandoned training sights, but it looks like someone’s beaten us to the punch.”

“What’d they take off with?”

“Records it seems, but it’s fresh. Dust that had settled for decades have been wiped clean in certain places.”

“ Any good news?”

“There’s been no attempt at an infiltration at Stark Resilient.”

“And there won’t be.”

Natasha didn’t know when it was her eyes had closed, only that her heart was heavy. She was caught in a nightmare, a dreadful nightmare made all the more horrifying by the fact it was real. She was so beautiful; so strong with her long black hair and bright green eyes. She was the first person to ever love her, to make her feel like a human being instead of a weapon; to release her mind from its prison. A sob racked through her body, _they were just children then_. 

A ring glinted in the soft moonlight filtering in through their open window. Vita revealed it to her in secret, passed down from generation to generation; a 1820 Georgian diamond and sapphire ring, made into the human symbol of the heart. “[I showed it to Marco the last time we were able to escape to the east, but he refused to take it,]” she said, eyes cast downward.

Natasha frowned. “[Why?]” she asked, lifting Vita’s chin so that their eyes met, sitting on the floor in between their beds.

“[He’s afraid they’ll come for him, and confiscate it.]”

“[They won’t ever lay a hand on them, neither Marco nor Oksana.]”

Vita smiled, lashes naturally long and dark as she took Natasha’s hand into her own. “[They’re not the ones I worry most about, Natalia,]” she whispered as she pulled Natasha close, kissing her softly. “[Goodnight.]”

Climbing back into bed, Natasha watched her sleep, thinking about Yuri and his control over them. “[I’ll never let him hurt you.]”

 

**December 25th, 2012:**  
 **Moscow, Russia.  
05:00**

Natasha awoke, body shaking as she clutched her pillow, muffling her own frustrated groaned. The ache in her chest blossomed, face flushed and stained with tears. The sun was not yet out when she zipped up her jacket, eyes heavy but focused as she broke into Feodor’s basement dwelling, stealing a second pair of keys. She didn’t think he would mind her borrowing his Roadster for the day. An hour later, and she was trailing alongside a pair of train tracks that ran towards a rundown series of half-finished factories.

Through a broken door handle, Natasha let herself in, stalking quietly down the corridor to the main floor, spotting abandoned machines and series of metal stairs. With quick work, she shot off one of her grappling hooks, ziplining her way up. A distinct smell of gasoline brought her to an empty room, garbage lit ablaze in a large trashcan. A hand shot out for her, aiming for her throat as she reacted on pure instinct, judo tossing them flat onto their back. A knife found itself plunged into her side, Sasha throwing her off of him as he went to stab her again.

“[No more of that,]” she said, shooting him with ten thousand volts, widowbites coming in handy. “[I only have one question before I put a bullet in your head, Sasha: Who sent you?]”

“[You _bitch_ ,]” he spat. “[You killed my brother!]”

“[But you wouldn’t have known that unless someone had told you.]” Natasha elbowed him in the face when he wouldn’t comply. “[How much do you know?]”

“[Nothing.]”

Natasha twisted his arm up behind him, rendering him immobile as she produced a syringe. “[Truth time,]” she said before plunging the needle into his neck. “[Okay, Sasha. Who sent you?]”

Sasha’s eyes glazed over, heart hammering under his skin as he began to scream. “[Don’t know. Don’t know. Papers. Old papers. Ivan. My dear brother, Ivan. Woman. Woman, and no Ivan. Papers first.]”

“[What papers?]” Natasha ordered, dropping him to the ground as he scrambled to hide, to crawl within himself.

In the corner was a lone desk, one leg missing as it slanted forward and to the left. On top of it was a stack of files, and upon further inspection, Natasha realized they were Red Room files, all titled with their codenames and physical descriptions, but no photographs.

After she was done, Natasha disposed of all the evidence, body tense as she cleaned out her wounds, deciding—last minute—to see Pepper afterall; she owed her that much. She wiped the grease and the grime caked to her face, hands shaking. Fury had tried to talk her out of this, protect herself, but that wasn’t an option; she needed to see this through. Natasha never anticipated how hard it would be, the psychological trauma surpassing any and all physical pain. Natasha could use pain, harvest it, but not the nightmares. 

Natasha used the kitchen exit as her means of entrance, disguised as as a chef, she made her way up to Pepper’s floor, knocking on the door though she knew no one was present. Once again, she used her disruptor to scramble all reception, rolling the tray of food down the hall and around the corner, knocking on a random door before backtracking. Inside, she took the food she did grab, and placed it on the coffee table; pastries, soups, and dumplings set neatly in order. In her bag were decorations she had stolen from outside; ribbon, wreaths, paper snowflakes and glass figurines. Natasha set them up where she could, side causing her an ample amount of pain as she removed her jacket, gray sweater covered in blood. 

Natasha glanced down at her watch, estimating how much time she had before Pepper would arrive back to her room. With a quick glance towards the bathroom door, she decided a bath was in order. The hot water and swirling puffs of steam helped to clear her head, mind departing from present dangers to past pleasures; long nights spent in a warm bed, a lithe body resting soundly beside hers. Pepper never imposed, never tried to cage her, and even though Natasha knew it must have shattered Pepper’s trust in her, Pepper had let her go that night. Natasha slumped back, submerging her head underwater as she tried to clear her thoughts. 

When Natasha surfaced, she had a small Beretta aimed in her direction. “Well, hello to you, too.”

Pepper’s shoulders slumped forward, fear draining. “What are you doing here?” she asked, putting the safety on before setting the handgun onto the counter next to the sink. 

“No shouting, please. I’ve had a rough morning.” Natasha rose from the tub, water tinted pink, though the bleeding had stopped. 

“‘Tasha, what happened to you?” Pepper asked, snatching the towel out of her hands to asses the damage. 

“It’s fine. I took care of it.”

“Fine? You’ve been stabbed!” 

“I’ve had worse.”

“No, come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Natasha fought half-heartedly, skin cooling off before heating up again. “I made food...well, I took it, but still. The lymonnyk is really good.” 

Pepper ignored her, ordering her to lie down on the bed as she retrieved what she had on hand; tape and plenty of gauze. Pepper was efficient, hands veering down to caress the back of Natasha’s thighs after she had finished. Natasha propped up on her elbow, glancing back to see her entranced. Rolling over onto her back, Natasha stared up at her as Pepper peered down, studying her face. Natasha sat up, never breaking eye contact as she caressed Pepper’s cheek, hoping to kiss her only to have Pepper react first. 

Natasha brushed her nose against hers, smiling as Pepper laughed, the vibration felt through the press of their lips. Natasha traced her tongue along Pepper’s bottom lip, groaning as she granted her entrance, hands brushing up against Natasha’s back, sliding over her shoulders and down towards her breasts. Natasha wasted no time, tongue trailing down along the length of Pepper’s neck, hands removing her coat as her fingers slid through the buttons of her blouse, heart racing at the sheer black bustier she wore, thigh highs connected to a matching garter belt. “Good girl,” she whispered against the shell of Pepper’s ear. “Panties over instead of under.” 

Pepper gasped, sliding her hand in between Natasha’s thighs, middle finger ghosting just over her clit. Natasha pressed forward, stripping Pepper out of her underwear, but left the rest as she pushed her breasts up and out of the lace cups that held them, abusing each nipple with the length of her tongue. Pepper moaned, Natasha’s hair tangled in her fingers as she froze. “What?” Natasha asked, short of breath. 

“Your side,” she whispered, pupils dilated. 

Natasha leaned back, pulling Pepper onto her lap, thumb sliding over one of her nipples, rubbing in a circular motion.“Forget that.” 

The soft cotton sheets of the bed stroked her lust as Pepper placed one leg over Natasha’s left hip, the other sliding into place underneath her right thigh. Natasha secured one hand upon Pepper’s lower back, the other settled on the nape of her neck as she brought her down for a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue, and force as Pepper began to roll her hips downward, heat engulfing them both as Natasha thrust upward, chest rising and falling rapidly. Natasha’s head jerked back against the sheets, breath ragged as Pepper fingered her, rocking against Natasha hard and fast, breasts bouncing up and down as they fought to made up for lost time. The muscles in Natasha’s thighs contracted, perspiration collecting in the knit of her brow as Pepper lavished each nipple with her mouth, sucking and biting as Natasha grabbed her ass, craving more of her. 

Natasha was overstimulated, flipping Pepper over in a manner that was sure to cause her pain later. She kissed and sucked every inch of flesh she could, two fingers pumping into Pepper as she gasped and moaned, and whimpered; lips pursed as she begged and pleaded, love and adoration, heartache and loneliness laid out in the gold rings of her green eyes. Natasha couldn’t handle it, wanted to kiss away all the horrible things she had done. She caressed her sides, kissed her smooth, round breasts and freckled chest, close to breaking down as Pepper gripped her shoulders, nails digging in as Natasha added a third digit, their lips hovering close together. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she cried, lids sealed shut as her whole body tensed and shook, orgasm consuming her from the inside out. Natasha crawled on top of her, Pepper’s knees on either side of her waist as Natasha drove forward, fucking Pepper raw as she hid her face in the crook of her neck, panting words of love and affection as a thrill shot down her spine, orgasm taking her by surprise. 

“I am sorry...” she whispered, feeling lost and broken as she stroked Pepper’s hair, placing small kisses upon her shoulder.

**December 26th, 2012:**  
 **Moscow, Russia.  
16:00**

Natasha laid down on one of the few flat surfaces the St. Basil’s Cathedral had to offer, next to the small dome that marked the sanctuary of Basil the Blessed. The golden lines, and red drops both blended in and contrasted against the rest of the architecture. The telescopic sight positioned on top of the M40 sniper rifle was targeted onto Yuri as he walked around Red Square with Pepper, giving her a tour as they stopped and looked on at the monument of Pozharsky and Minin. She could take him out, but that’s not what Pepper wanted. No, she wanted to smooth out the kinks Cord Industries had caused Stark Resilient first.

Natasha didn’t like it, and she didn’t like the open location he had chosen. If pressed, she would take the shot, but for now, she was fixed to keep surveillance. The green coat she wore kept her warm, and allowed her to blend in, not that anyone could see her from so high up. During the Great War, Natasha would spend hours on end in the same position, waiting for German soldiers to cross her path, picking them off, one by one. Vita and Natasha would often take turns as spotters, the other taking the kill shot.

A shadow casted over her then, and as she rolled over, MAC-10 in hand as she stared up into a familiar pair of crystal blue eyes. “[Vera?]”

The black hat and coat she wore hid a portion of her face, but Natasha knew it was her. “[Hello, Widow.]”

Natasha stood to her feet, studying her. She hadn’t aged a day, not even Natasha looked as young as Vera did now. “[Black Rose, what have they done to you?]”

“[It’s not what they’ve done to me, Widow, it’s what I’ve done to them.]” The Makarov pistol in her hand was trained on her, eyes hardened. 

“[Vera, what are you talking about?]” Natasha held her position, but couldn’t think to raise her gun. This woman, this _girl_ , had fought alongside her.

“[Yuri knows you’re here, Natalia, knows you’ve come to kill him, but can’t quite figure out why you haven’t made a move yet.]” 

“[Why are you protecting him, Vera? After all he’s done to us, why are you doing this?]”

“[Because, unlike you, I haven’t betrayed my country.]”

Natasha shook her head. “[The war’s over.]”

Vera gave a short laugh. “[You’re weak just like all the others!]”

“[What do you mean, Vera? What have you done?]”

“[Only Olga died with honor, giving her life for us during Stalingrad, but the rest...Maria, Evgeniya, even Vita, _all cowards_.]”

“[Vera, you didn’t! You’re being controlled, don’t you see you’re stronger than this?” Natasha shouted, dodging a bullet as Vera began to unload on her.

“[No more talk, Widow.]”

Natasha couldn’t kill her, couldn’t pretend like she could as she jumped forward, kicking the gun out of Vera’s hand, elbowing her in the face, twice for good measure before making her get away, hiding in a vault within the cathedral, floral painted vines twisting around the walls as she hid in the corner, small window providing little lighting. Her pulse was fast, chest tight as tears began to well in her eyes. She hadn’t known what had become of Maria, Vera or Evgeniya after defecting to the States, she had always believed they had done the same. To know that they never got a second chance at life, that they had died by one of their sister’s hand, a trusted comrade, was painful; knowledge bitter and hard to swallow. Natasha wiped at her eyes, hands shaking as the tears continued to fall.

The comm she had linked with Pepper was opened, secure and at her disposal. “Don’t speak. Don’t look Suspicious. Just listen to me. I’ve been compromised, but you haven’t. Play it safe. I’ll contact you when I can, and...I love you, so please, be on your guard at all times.”

Natasha looked down at her right arm, bullet having grazed it, nothing but a mere scratch, and yet, it hurt worse than the stab wound in her side. Gathering her senses, she stood to her feet, drifting through corridor after corridor until she happened upon a tour group, blending in until she could slip away. Vera had found her, but Natasha didn’t know how. There were only three options, Natasha concluded: One, Yuri had seen through her disguise. Two, one of Feodor’s associates, Feodor included, had sold her out. Or three, one of Fury’s men had turned a profit selling classified information. 

She returned to the apartment, seeking out Feodor until she came upon him cooking fish in the kitchen of his basement dwelling. She threatened to castrate him right there and then. “[No, no. Not us. You supply us a service, why would we want to turn you over to the bastard we want gone?]” he asked, both hands held over his privates.

“[How do I know that you aren’t trying to rid of us both?]”

Feodor swallowed, taking a step back, he bumped into the small stove. “[We’re much more afraid of you than him. Besides, he’s trying to bleed our legal assets dry. We want him dead, too.]”

Natasha watched for any sign of deception, and while she saw fear, she found no indication that he was lying. “[If I find out you’ve lied to me, I’m going to show you a level of torture not even the KGB could master. Do you understand?]”

“[Yes, yes. Please don’t cut off my balls. I’d like to have children _someday_.]”

The first thing Natasha did upon entering her apartment was to search for any and all surveillance planted. The next thing she did was contact Fury. “Yeah, Widow, what do you have?”

“I need to know if any of your men are less than reliable, and I need to know now.”

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout, ‘Tas?”

“Yuri knows I’m coming for him. Sent one of the former...sent someone to track me down. The mafia isn’t behind it, and I need to know if any of your personnel are willing to trade intel for money.”

“It’s not on our end, ‘Tas, I can assure you that.”

“How?”

“You think I trust those sons of bitches? I’ve got Daisy on their asses night and day, and she’s my best, not to mention an Avengers hackie, so she believes in that super duper hero bullshit as well. Besides that, I’ve got them all tagged. I can see, hear, and damn well almost feel everything they do when they do it.”

Natasha ran her fingers through her hair, processing all known factors. “Do any of them know about Pepper?”

“No one but Daisy, and that’s only because she’s met her.”

“And Vita’s body?”

“Nothin’, ‘Tas, sorry.” Natasha moved to switch off the comm, Fury’s voice cutting her off. “‘Tas, if I don’t hear from you every day, I’m sendin’ in reinforcements, got it?” Natasha signed off without another word.

Yuri knew it was her, had known from the moment they crossed paths. Natasha knew he wouldn’t send anyone to her apartment, that wasn’t his style, but she did know he would try and drive her out. Vera, she concluded, was being controlled, there was no other answer. She wasn’t the woman she had known; the girl who taught her what Christmas was, what good people could do. The person who placed plates with candles in the center on Christmas eve for the lost and the dead.

Natasha was haunted by the fact that Vera was forced to take Maria’s and Evgeniya’s life; remembering the role she had played in Vita’s. Yuri’s control over Vera was stronger now than it had been years before, and it made Natasha sick with grief that he had finally perfected his craft. Yuri wouldn’t lay a hand on Pepper, whether or not he knew of their connection; there was a lot to be lost for killing an American, especially one with as many ties as Pepper Potts. If Vera shooting at her was any indication, Yuri didn’t want to waste time getting her off his trail, and into an unmarked grave. With a sigh, she sat back against the headboard of the bed, steaming mug of hot tea in her hand. 

Zhenghe Gongfu was a black tea imported from China; Natasha remembered the first she had drank it, over seventy-one years ago. The strong brew was complemented by a natural honey flavor, and made even the worst of nights more bearable. She noted that coffee was not as popular in Russia as tea, and it was one of the few items she had brought with her to the States; the country had awful tea, stocked full with too much addons. The tea there didn’t taste like tea, she thought with tears in her eyes as she gave a small laugh. Natasha laid the empty mug on the floor as she laid down, covering up as she spared a glance up and out the window, nothing but an open sky and a series of lights. She didn’t know whether the memory of her first sip was true or not, but for the time, she would pretend it was. 

**December 27th, 2012:**  
 **Moscow, Russia.  
08:30**

Natasha didn’t know what woke her first, the sound of the wailing fire trucks, or the smell of smoke. She didn’t panic, simply felt around, noticing that none of the walls or front door were hot. She threw on a large fur coat and a pair of boots as she hurried into the kitchen, moving the small table in front of the window out of the way. She popped open the screen, crawling out onto the ledge, snow layered on every rooftop. With no other choice, she leapt, hanging on the edge, she pulled herself up, swinging one leg over before the other. 

On her feet, Natasha was able to see that the building set ablaze was none other than the Spanish Embassy. Without needing further information, she knew it had to be Yuri’s doing, his way of drawing her out into the open, and it had worked. A shot rang out as a bullet whisked past her head, nearly knocking her over and off the slanted rooftop. Armed only with a knife, Natasha moved quick, breath coming out in hot bursts as she ducked behind a chimney. She took a deep breath, mentally calculating the trajectory in which the bullets were coming from. 

Knife in hand, Natasha ran back, jumping from one ledge to another as Vera came into view. Surprised, Vera over extended, giving Natasha enough time to drive the blade through her shoulder, buried to the hilt as Vera screamed in shock as her dominant arm was rendered useless. “[No more, Vera!]” she shouted, yanking her short blonde hair in between her fingers, twisting as she slammed her head against the tiled roof. “[Stop _this_.]” 

Vera fought back, kicking Natasha in her chest as she removed the knife, intent on using it against her. Natasha rolled, snow melting into her skin as she grasped blindly for something to hold onto, a stray nail impaling her through the center of her hand as she reached for a weather vane. Vera charged at her again, but Natasha was able to deflect her advance, kicking Vera’s legs out from underneath her. She dropped the knife, reaching for it as Natasha kicked it off the roof, landing on Ver as she used her fists to strike her over and over until her face was bloody and unrecognizable in her anger and anguish. “[That’s for Maria and Evgeniya.]”

Natasha had her hands wrapped around her throat when she realized Vera was crying, blood pouring from her mouth and nose. “[I didn’t want to. I never wanted to,]” she sobbed, catching Natasha off guard.

“[Vera?]”

“[Yuri...the things he did to me, to my mind. The control...too powerful to break this time. I couldn’t escape him.]”

With a restricted breath, Natasha pulled Vera into her arms; this was the girl, the woman who helped Natasha through all of those years. “[It’s okay, Vera. It’s okay.]”

“[No, it’s not.]” Vera coughed and heaved, spirit broken. [“You don’t understand.]”

“[Tell me,]” Natasha pleaded.

She sobbed harder. “[If he doesn’t capture me, Natasha, or I don’t go crawling back...I’ll die, and I’ve _tried_. I’ve tried to die, but it’s too painful, Natalia. It hurts so much, I can’t stand it. I’m too weak.”

“[Vera...]”

Vera looked up at her, tears falling from her eyes, mingling with the blood already dried. “[You promise me something, Natalia.]”

Natasha caressed her cheek. “[Anything.]”

“[I tell you where Maria and Evgeniya are, and you give them a proper burial.]”

“[Yes, of course.]”

“[I’ll give you everything I have from Yuri, and you kill me.]”

“[Vera, no...]”

Vera clutched at her jacket. “[Please! Please, don’t let me go back to him. End it now for me, Natalia. Please.]”

Natasha began to tremble as she held Vera closer, listening to all of her sins, all of her secrets. Natasha blinked back her own tears, remaining strong for the both of them. “[Vera,]” she whispered.

“[Yes, little sister?]”

“[Do you know what Yuri did with Vita’s body?]”

Vera shook her head, fresh tears spilling. “[He never told me. I’m so sorry, Natalia. Please forgive me.”

Natasha pressed a kiss to Vera’s forehead, placing her hands on either side of her head. “[You are forgiven, Black Rose.]” A second past before she snapped her neck, killing instantly.

Natasha wept until she had no more tears, numb as she lifted Vera’s lifeless body into her arms, moving her back into the apartment, and placing her in the tub as she cleaned her up, placing her in a lavender gown, her favorite color. When she was finished, she threw up, rinsing her mouth out she looked into the mirror, face pale with dark circles under her eyes. Feodor was the first she called, reluctantly allowing him inside as she explained the situation. “[I don’t want her body desecrated in any way, do you understand? No dismemberment, not a strand missing from her head. I simply need you to store her body somewhere safe until she can be retrieved.]”

Feodor stared down at Vera with a curious expression. “[How old is she?]” he asked, visibly bothered by her perceived age.

Natasha handed him a stack of rubles. “[Eighty-seven.]”

Feodor frowned, pocketing the money. “[I’m always the one that gets stuck with the freaky deeky weird stuff.]”

“[Can you do it or not?]”

“[Give me an hour, yeah?]”

Natasha stood near an icon of the Virgin Mary, the Russian Orthodox church she attended was one she had seen many years ago. She watched as women led young children by the hand, leading them in prayer. Natasha didn’t understand, could never, but respected their faith. She had seen first hand what lengths people would go in order to practice what they believed in; their love for their respective God. Christians, Jews, and Muslims alike had suffered under Stalin, cast out, faith stripped. She had watched as people were executed, refusing to give up what little they had. 

The iconosasis’ were framed in gold, images depicting the lives of various saints. The detailed images painted across the walls and ceilings had been restored, but Natasha remembered them before they had faded, the difference in color and outline. She didn’t believe, but she felt at peace, protected from outside forces. 

Vita had explained to her the atrocities of when Kiev was invaded and overthrown by Nazi soldiers, eyes desolate as she tried to convey the loss of her family and friends, all executed in a single night. Natasha’s stomach churned as she remembered Vita’s gutting detail of what torture she had suffered and endured at the hands of German soldiers, escaping into the night after they had all rendered themselves incapacitated after a long night of drinking. Vita mourned her family and her friends, but she was never sad. She would tell Natasha that she was alive, and even though she often suffered, she had a sister and a son because of the choices she made, and she had her. “[The girl with red hair that I love so,]” she would say.

Through her, Natasha had learned compassion. She bowed as she wept silently, head covered as she fought to find the strength to overcome the guilt and the regret she felt. When she turned to leave, eager to get away, there was an Abbess watching her, habit and veil framing her face in a manner that gave her absolute authority. “[Is there something you need to let free, dear?]”

Natasha shook her head, wiping a stray tear. “[No. I know what it is I need to do,]” she said as she went to move past her. 

“[Of course you do, Natalia.]” Natasha stopped, turned on her heels as she stared at her. The Abbess began to laugh. “[Do you believe I would ever forget the face of the woman who saved me? I was only seven at the time...but then again, you were only fourteen.]”

Natasha searched for words to respond. “[I’m much older now.]”

The Abbess smiled. “[As am I.]”

“[I hope you’ve had a good life, Ainash.]”

“[Here, I do.]”

Natasha smiled back at her. “[Good.]”

The walk back was a long one, filled with somber thoughts. A little girl from Kazakhstan she had saved was now an old woman, serving as an Abbess in the same church Natasha had brought her to years prior. She peered up at the moon above her head, dwelling on all that she had lost and gained, and all she still had left to fight for. All the women she had fought alongside of were dead and gone, leaving her with the last of their memories.

“Fury.”

“Widow.”

“I have another favor to call in. Three, actually.”

“Cover up?”

Natasha looked down at her wounded handed, squeezing just to see if she could still feel. “Recovery.”

“You take care of your other problem?” 

“Yes.”

“Give me the locations, and I’ll do what I can. And, ‘Tas?”

“Yeah?”

“I know I don’t ask this often, or at all, but are you all right?”

She sat on the sofa, television on but muted as she tucked her knees into her chest. “No.”

Natasha fell asleep on the sofa, waking when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She reached for the gun beside her, aiming it at the barely lit figure. “[You can’t kill someone who isn’t here, little sister.]”

Natasha began to tremble, grasping at the lamp beside her. “[Vita?]”

She smiled, draped in a white gown as she sat beside her. “[Glad to see you remember me.]”

Natasha embraced her, crying as she ran her fingers through her long jet black hair. “[How could I ever forget you?]” she cried, holding Vita’s face in her hands. “[I love you, how could I ever forget you?]”

Vita smiled. “[You did love me, and I know in your heart you still do, but there’s someone else now. I’ve heard she’s so smart, and so beautiful.]”

She wiped Natasha’s eyes as she kissed her hand. “[She has your eyes.]”

“[Is that so?]”

“[Yes,]” Natasha said, smoothing her hands down Vita’s arms, anguish flaring. “[I’m so sorry, Vita...for what I did to you.]”

“[No more tears, Natalia. No more, not for me. Yuri did to you what he did to all of us.]”

“[I wasn’t strong enough!]” Natasha slammed her fist onto the back of the sofa. “[I wasn’t...I wasn’t.]”

Vita took her hands into her own, kissing them. “[You’re here now, Natalia.]”

“[Where are you?]” she pleaded, cheeks stained red. “[What did he do with you?]”

Vita turned her head to the side, eyes narrowed. “[I don’t know,]” she said, whispering. “[I know that it’s very cold and very dark here, Natalia, and I don’t much like being here.]”

“[Your ring. He still has your ring.]”

Vita caressed her cheek, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “[You’ll find it, I have no doubt. It’s time to move on, and stop living in the past. And, Natalia?]”

“[Yes?]”

“[It’s time to wake up.]”

**December 30th, 2012:**  
 **Moscow, Russia.  
21:00**

Natasha didn’t leave the apartment the entire day. Instead, she used the time to prepare herself mentally as well as strategically for what she planned to accomplish the following night. Natasha might not be able to kill Yuri up close and personal, but that had never stopped her before. She spent the first half of the day in silent meditation, and the second half cleaning her guns and knives. Yesterday had not left her mind, nor would it. 

She was still mourning Vera’s death as well as her dream concerning Vita, and all that it meant, and all that it implied. Natasha never ate the night before, fasting a way for her to keep her head clear, and her objectives in mind. The heat in the room grew to be too much, and so Natasha leaned over the kitchen table, unlatching the window as fresh air came rushing in. A noise sounded near the front door, and Natasha was up and ready with a knife in hand as she wasted no time, throwing open the door as she snatchd whoever was on the other side in, blade to their throat before she realized who it was. “Pepper?” She let go of her instantly, Pepper turning around to face her.

“What the hell was that?” she asked as she leaned back against the wall, hand over her throat.

“I thought...I don’t know what the hell I think anymore.”

Pepper’s features softened as she pulled Natasha into her arms, holding her as she fell apart, knowing that Pepper would pick up the pieces. “”Natasha...it’s okay.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then talk to me,” Pepper said as she guided Natasha to the sofa in her bedroom. She took off her gloves as she smoothed her hand over Natasha’s neck and shoulders. “Talk to me.”

“A woman, a good woman, that I knew, that your great grandmother knew...she’s dead now.” Natasha couldn’t bring herself to say any more than that, didn’t have to as Pepper connected the dots. 

“She was the one who was sent after you?”

Natasha gave a meek nod, heart heavy. “I was...forced to make a promise, a decision, and I made it, and I know it was right, but I hate it. I hate him, and I hate me, and I hate them all for doing this to me.”

Pepper looked at her, pained to see her hurting as she took Natasha’s hands into her own, kissing them. “No more tears, Natasha. No more,” she said, pressing their foreheads together. 

Natasha shook as she took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to leave you that night. You know that, right? Please say you understand.”

Pepper shook her head. “I know, ‘Tasha. I know you must have had a reason.”

Natasha bowed her head. “I remembered a piece of me that bastard had made me forget. It took me so long to put it all together; months of inducing dreams and nightmares alike. I got so sick, but I needed to know the truth; needed to purge it from my mind. The truth was too much for me to handle.”

Pepper placed her hands on either side of Natasha’s face. “ _Nothing_ is too hard for you to handle. You’re the most amazing woman I know.”

“And the most messed up?”

Pepper gave a little smile. “That, too,” she said, tilting her head a little so that she could kiss Natasha softly on the mouth. 

Natasha placed her hands behind Pepper’s head, holding her close as she kissed her with longing. Pepper responded in kind, one hand settled on the side of Natasha’s cheek, the other centered on the small of her back. Before long, kissing wasn’t enough, and their clothing was all too much. Pepper slid Natasha’s tank top up and over her head, mouth trailing along her neck, shoulders, and chest as she unhooked her bra. Natasha stood them up, removing the many layers of clothing that separated Pepper from her. 

Natasha slammed her back against the wall, hands roaming over her hips, sides, chest, neck and face as she lost herself in her. She had never been one for verbally expressing herself, and so she set about marking her affection in every bite, writing it with every touch, and sealing it with every kiss. The feeling of Pepper’s pulse beneath her lips urged her on, hands cupping and massaging her breasts as she kissed the center of her reactor, moving south as she trailed her way down. Dropping to her knees, she placed one of Pepper’s long legs over her shoulder. 

Pepper gasped as she leaned her head back against the wall, one hand nestled in her hair. Natasha used her tongue to lick the inside of Pepper’s thigh, kissing and biting the flesh there as she used her fingers to pry Pepper’s lips apart, brushing just over her slit. Pepper trembled, thighs quivering as Natasha ghost her warm breath along her flesh, sucking and gently nibbling each of her lips. With one hand brushing her thigh and back, Natasha circled her tongue around her clit. Pepper moaned, both hands on the back of Natasha’s head as she continued her ministrations. 

Natasha pulled away, looking up at Pepper as she licked the come from around her lips, never breaking eye contact. “Tell me what you want.”

Pepper let out a shaky little sigh, threading her fingers through Natasha’s hair. “[ _You_.]”

Natasha smirked, nipping and kissing at her inner thigh again, eyes trained on her as she made her way up. Natasha licked from her entrance up to her clit as Pepper’s thighs tensed and trembled, a ragged cry let loose from her throat as her stomach expanded and contracted, fighting to control her breathing. Natasha repeated the motion over and over until Pepper threatened her. The tip of her tongue darted in and out, dipping further in as Pepper cried louder, murmuring her name in different variations as Natasha added two fingers to the mix, twisting them as she hooked them upward, stroking her G-spot in a come hither motion. 

The last fifteen minutes were spent with her tongue on Pepper’s cliit, flicking from side-to-side in a rapid, consistent motion; listening for the little sound she made right before she came. Moments after, Natasha continued to taste and suck, licking her clean. Once Pepper had gathered herself, she had Natasha up on her feet, and flat on her back as she kissed her with potency, touching and caressing every ounce of skin she could, falling in between Natasha’s legs as she rutted against her, hand rubbing against her sex, causing an agony Natasha had learned to crave. She gripped the sheets above her head, biting her bottom lip as Pepper slid against her, hands fondling each breast as Natasha choked back a sob, pleasure mounting as every point in her body was stimulated at once. “Oh, God. _Oh_ ,” she said, voice a mixture of desperate wanting and warning. “[Fuck, I’m going to come.]”

Pepper grinned, leaning over Natasha as she kissed and sucked the lobe of her ear. “Then do it already.” 

Natasha complied, a high-pitch whine filling the room as they both came down. Pepper laid next to her, turning onto her side as she entwined her arms and legs together with Natasha’s, kissing her cheek. Natasha turned her head to the side, kissing Pepper softly on the lips. “You want to do something with me?” she asked, green eyes sedated and hopeful.

“Like what?”

“Like anything. They have ice skating in front of the GUM department store. You can finally teach me how to skate.”

“Pepper, you can’t risk that. You being here is enough of a risk.”

“I called in a favor or twelve.”

Natasha gave a knowing smile. “I bet you did.” 

“Learned from the best. Now come on, you have disguises for your disguises, find me one. 

“Pep...”

“Tomorrow, you’re going to be in spy mode. Before whatever happens happens, let’s spend at least one night together, even if we have to pretend to be someone else.”

The barricades were lined with onlookers as the lights lined around the entire store casted an angelic reflection on the ice. Natasha taught Pepper how to lace up her skates in a manner that would keep her from twisting an ankle. She then instructed Pepper to walk around the edge of the rink, watching as she wobbled and gave an embarrassed laugh, skittish whenever the other, more experienced, skaters rushed by, clutching Natasha’s hand tighter. “That blonde wig looks awful on you,” she said, coaching Pepper to leave the safety of the wall to practice her balance. 

Pepper bent her knees, leaning forward instead of back. “Oh, and it looked so amazing on you.”

“Admit it, you loved that whole look.”

“You mean the heavy eyeliner and too tight Misfits tee shirt?”

Natasha decided to be a little cruel, whisking Pepper into her arms as she spun them around in a circle. Pepper covered her mouth with her hand as she let out a loud yelp. “Oh, my God! ‘Tasha, don’t do that to me. Please. You could literally make my heart explode.”

Natasha laughed, nuzzling Pepper’s neck as she got lost in her scent. “Sorry, not sorry.” She moved to kiss her as Pepper looked around. “Homosexuality isn’t illegal here, not anymore.”

Pepper frowned, thinking. “Yes, but who knows what they consider propaganda nowadays, right?”

Natasha sighed, brushing a stray strand of red hair off of her shoulder. “The worse they could do to us is glare. If anyone tried anything, then you would just hit them with that,” she said, tapping Pepper’s chest. “And if that’s not good enough for you, I’ll break their arm in three places.”

“And if there’s a lot of them?”

“You’ve seen me work.”

Pepper smiled in a manner that made her nose scrunch up, lifting her chin as Natasha placed a gentle kiss to her lips. “There. The world didn’t come to an end, did it?”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “No. I guess it didn’t.” 

**December 31st, 2012:**  
 **Moscow, Russia.  
18:56**

Natasha finished setting up in a small alcove no one but the keepers of the theatre knew of. And though her memories of being a ballerina were false, the visions she saw concerning the layout of the theatre were as intimate as if she had truly been brought up within its confines. The orchestra sat in the pit, Rozhdestvensky composing his finishing ode to Tchaikovsky as the curtains separated, and Yuri’s daughter was exposed; black hair pulled into a braided bun, sleeves open and tutu flowing instead of rigid. Yuri’s mother was a Mongolian nomadic who had found her way to Tsaritsyn before it was known as Stalingrad, and later Volgograd; Chuluun was his original birth name, but his mother was perceived as a prostitute after having him out of wedlock with a Russian soldier who would later die during the Russian Civil War. After his mother died of cancer, Yuri changed his name, taking on the surname of Rybalko, and denying any and all Asian ancestry. 

Natasha took aim at the imperial box, watching Yuri as he appeared enthralled at the performance going on, Pepper looked less so. She looked beautiful in a sapphire and black lace cocktail dress, her hair swept up into an elegant bun as she moved to stand to excuse herself when Yuri grabbed ahold of her arm. He stood, placing Pepper in front of him as he held a gun to her back, wagging his finger in Natasha’s direction as five men appeared and took Pepper away. Natasha remained calm, devising another plan in a matter of seconds. Watching Tatiana leap across the stage gave her an idea. 

She packed up, moving efficiently and quietly down to the underground concert hall. Yuri might have an hour head start, but he would crawl at the chance to catch up once he realized his vital mistake at thinking himself superior in numbers and in mind. Natasha knocked out two ballerina’s before coming upon Tatiana, patiently waiting for her cue to shuffle back out when Natasha grabbed her from behind, placing her in a sleeper hold before backtracking with her in tow. She threw her into the back of the car, binding her hands and feet together. Her heart dropped, Vita’s ring on the ring finger of her right hand. Natasha attempted to remove it, but no matter how hard she tried, it didn’t dislodge. 

“[That damn _bastard_.]” 

Natasha put the car into gear, and prepared herself for a long drive. Three hours after injecting Tatiana with a sedative, she woke up, kicking and screaming. “[You monster! Where you taking me?]”

“[Hold on.]” She dialed a number on the satellite phone Fury had given her. “[Okay, resume.]”  
Natasha placed the phone to her ear. “[You hear that, Yuri? It’s the last of your legacy. Now, I know you’re not capable of love, not even a little, but imagine all those years spent sculpting her into the perfect image wasted. You know where to find me.]”

“[You _insufferable_ bitch! You know you can’t kill me up close and personal, what do you expect to accomplish?]” 

“[Come, or don’t. The choice is yours. Though, I don’t think Tatiana here would appreciated you being a no show, and if you don’t think I’m savage enough, remember who built me.” Natasha glanced back in the rearview mirror, watching as Tatiana tried, with limited success, to free herself. “If you don’t stop that, I’ll be forced to do one of two things: One, inject you again, or two, cut off your hands and feet, and possibly your tongue. Your choice, and if I were you, I would chose wisely.]”

“[How did you get past my father’s men?]”

“[Simple: I killed them.]” Natasha watched as her face contorted. “[Was it someone you loved?]”

Tatian began to cry. “[His name was Mikhail, you _monster_!]” 

“[I’m sorry about that, and I’m sincere in my apology to you. Your father killed not only one person I loved, but four of them. I am a monster because your father made me in his image. No doubt the way he made you.]”

Tatiana spat at her, screaming incoherently. “[My father is nothing like the way you describe him, you _liar_.]” 

“[Delusional.]”

Tatiana was dosed with another shot of Ketamine, enough to keep her silent for the rest of the drive. The silence was something Natasha knew well; it was something she used as a weapon against her opponents, something she used to hurt people, but it was also something that hurt her. In the silence, she could dwell, focus on other parts of her being that wasn’t driven by circumstance, but emotion. The fact she knew this terrain instinctively, the snow capped trees, and narrow roads; it was because this was where she came of age. There was no theatre, no parents, no; there was a forest spanning upward, deserted roads no longer used. The facility came to view with the moonlight flooding against it, no sign of life anywhere within its vicinity. 

Tatiana didn’t struggle as Natasha dragged her out of the vehicle, tossing her over her shoulder as she carried her up a steep incline, rural and forgotten land just outside Volgograd. Posters with Lenin and Stalin’s portraits were hung both inside and out, in various states of red decay. Natasha remembered the vicinity well, and yet, not at all; it was a physical memory. She used that anger to propel her onward, remembering her training though it made her sick. 

Natasha entered what looked to be a workout room, sandbags hanging from the ceiling, racks once filled with swords and daggers were now covered in dust, boxes filled with tattered old uniforms. Natasha snarled, moving down a multitude of stairs, all centered around the arena they were forced to fight each other in. She dropped Tatiana onto the floor, grabbing a wooden chair before placing it in the very center of the dome. She placed Tatiana on it, using a roll of tape to make sure she didn’t go anywhere. She looked down at her, glad to see she was finally coming to. 

“[The ring, how do you get it off?]”

Tatiana shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she began to laugh. “[I’m not telling you anything!]” she shouted, hair falling out of its bun and down the left side of her shoulder.

“[You tell me, or I’ll cut it off.]”

“[So full of threats. You’ll do no such thing.]”

Natasha removed the knife strapped around her ankle. “[You’re going to regret that decision.]”

Three hours later, and Natasha was alerted to the sound of oncoming vehicles. Of course Yuri wouldn’t come alone, but that was his mistake, not hers. “[Looks like papa’s here. You sure you don’t want to give me instructions on how to release it?]” Tatiana shook her head. “[Then I guess your finger stays in my bag, then. Shame.]”

The doors busted open as Yuri and his men marched in, carrying Pepper who was bound and gagged. Natasha stood next to Tatiana, keeping her interest in check. “[Daddy’s home.]”

Pepper was thrown to the ground, Yuri pulling her up by her hair. Natasha crossed her arms, watching as Pepper stared up at her, nose slightly bloody as she winked. Natasha smiled. “[You made a grave mistake, Widow.]”

“[You care about your daughter that much, huh, Yuri?]”

Yuri scoffed, tossing Pepper to the side. “[Please! That girls mother was a useless, selfish whore who killed herself because she knew her daughter would also be a useless, insignificant little ant. I couldn’t care less about that girl, but she holds something precious.]”

“[Papa!]” Tatiana screamed. 

“[Silence! It’s time you die now, Natalia. Join all your sisters before you.]”

Natasha began to laugh. “I don’t think so. Pepper, darling.”

The reactor in Pepper’s chest began to glow, a blast of blue light ripping through her dress, destroying Yuri and all of his mens guns before their bullets could discharge. Pepper got up to her feet, dusting her ruined dress off as Yuri looked up at her with fear. “[My girlfriend ties me up tighter than that.]”

“[What...what are you?]” 

“[That’s really none of your concern, Mr. Rybalko. Where’s my grandmother’s body?]”

“[I don’t...I don’t—]”

“[I’ll tell you!]” Tatiana shouted. “[Please, release me, and I’ll tell you.]”

“[And why should we trust you, Ms. Rybalko?]” Natasha asked, shooting each of Rybalko’s men in the kneecap.

“[I loved my mother,]” she cried. “[I miss her, and his words...his every abuse. I’ll tell you because he threatened to bury me there many times.]”

“You trust her?”

“What little I understood? Yeah.”

Natasha untied Tatiana, watching as she approached her father, placing her foot over his windpipe as he struggled to breathe. “[My whole life has been dictated by you. I lost the man I loved because of you! My mother...and you won’t dare hurt me now, will you?]”

Pepper looked at Natasha, nodding in Tatiana’s direction. “[Are you going to handle this or let her?]”

“[I know there’s no one he’s probably tortured more than his own flesh and blood, but she doesn’t have it in her, and she’s suffered enough for the night,]” she said, moving to where Tatiana loomed over him. “[It’s okay. You don’t have to do this anymore.]”

Tatiana removed her foot as she wiped her eyes. Yuri began to laugh. “[You can’t hurt me, Widow! Not this close.]”

“[That’s where you’re wrong, Yuri.]” She motioned for Pepper. “Dear, I’m going to need you to break my nose.”

Pepper looked at her with large eyes. “What?”

“He’s right. I can’t kill him up close, but if I can’t smell, that no longer becomes a problem.”

Pepper sighed, wiping her forehead. “Okay, hold on.”

“Hold on? Hold on, what?”

Pepper picked up a roll of tape, wrapping her right hand. “You may want your nose broken, but I don’t want my hand broken. I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do tomorrow.” Pepper stood in front of her. “I’ll make it quick, sweetie.”

Natasha winked. “Thanks.”

Pepper tightened her wrist, rearing back as she launched her fist forward, centering her punch on the knuckles of her index and middle fingers. Natasha’s nose throbbed and ached, but at least it was a clean break. “Grab the gasoline from the car, and torch the place. I’ll be out shortly.”

“[What did she say?]” Tatiana asked.

“Just follow me,” Pepper said, grabbing her hand as she led her out.

“[I’m ready, Yuri, are you?]” He tried to crawl away, kneecaps shattered. Natasha rolled him over, sitting on top of his chest. “[I’m going to kill you like you killed her,]” she said, wrapping her hands around his throat, pressing her thumbs down as she strangled him; watching the life fade from his eyes. 

Smoke began to roll in, and Natasha made her exit. “[If any of you can crawl quick enough, I suggest you do so.]”

Pepper leaned against the driver side door, coat tossed over her shoulders. “Done?” she asked.

Natasha pulled her body against hers, kissing her before pulling away, trailing her thumb over the bruise blossoming on her left cheek. “Done.”

“Good.”

“We should really get her somewhere.”

“She’s been through a lot.”

“You cut off her finger?”

“She wouldn’t give me the ring. I had no choice.”

Tatiana instructed them to a private residence near the theatre.”[This man’s been more of a father than he ever was.]”

“[I’m sorry your finger isn’t salvageable, but there will be a man sent here tomorrow who will give you something better. You’ll have more power in that one finger than men have in their entire body.]”

“[What will you do now?]” Pepper asked.

“[My mother’s maiden name was Jyun. I plan to change my last name back to hers, and move on.]”

Natasha nodded. “[I wish you the best.]”

The ride to Pepper’s hotel was a quiet affair, each reflecting on all that had transpired. Natasha didn’t realize it at first, but she was crying. “‘Tasha, what’s wrong?” Pepper asked, leaning over to wipe her face.

“I’m just...so relieved.” 

Pepper brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I know.”

“I’m sorry you had to miss New Years. The fireworks in Red Square are beautiful.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy them without you anyway.” 

Natasha pulled up in front of the building. She took Pepper’s hand in hers, kissing it. “[Love you.]”

“[Love you more.]”

“Get to bed, Ms. Potts, you have a plane to catch later.”

“Will you be joining me when you get back?”

“I believe so.”

“Goodnight, Ms. Romanova.”

Natasha climbed the stairs to her apartment, politely declining the old couples request for tea once again as she unlocked the front door. She hung her coat up, moving to the kitchen when Fury sounded over the commline.

“Widow.”

“Yeah, Fury?” she asked, rinsing off Vita’s ring. 

“All four have been located, ‘Tas. My team’s bringing them home.”

Natasha wiped the ring dry, smiling for the first time in months. “Thank you, Nick.”

“Anytime, Natasha.” 

Natasha placed the ring into a box, deciding last minute to have tea with the elderly couple down the hall, listening to the old man’s stories until she grew too tired to carry on. The woman, Mina, tucked her into bed, wishing her a safe trip. Natasha thanked her for her kindness, falling asleep in the next breath. 

“[I never realized just how beautiful you had become,]” came a soft voice. When Natasha opened her eyes, Vita was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. 

“[Vita, I...]”

Vita grinned from ear-to-ear, her green eyes beaming as she turned to look at her. “[You found me.]”

Natasha sat up. “[But is it enough?]”

She took Natasha’s hands into her own, kissing them. “[It will be,]” she said, nodding towards the box on the dresser. “[You know what to do with that.]”

“[I do.]”

“[Then that’s all I ask, Natalia.]”

Natasha began to weep, hating herself for it. “[I miss you,]” she said as Vita wiped her eyes.

“[I’m a memory, Natalia. A distant one. You have something to hold onto now, and you better not let her go again. Not for me.]”

Natasha shook her head, holding her one last time. “[I understand.]”

“[Good, my red haired girl. Rest. You deserve it.]”

**January 2nd, 2012:**  
 **Moscow, Russia.  
09:00**

Natasha, dressed in all black, made her way through the Novodevichy cemetery. This cemetery hosted some of the most profound names in Russia, from artists and writers to royalty and veterans. Nick greeted her with a hand on the shoulder, showing her the tomb where Vita, Vera, Maria, and Evgeniya were all buried alongside Olga. “We’ve got a guest,” he said, turning them so that she could see Pepper approaching.

“You had...”

Pepper placed her finger over Natasha’s mouth, the bruise on her cheek had deepened to a darker shade of purple. “I got a later flight,” she said. “I want to meet them.”

“They were some of the toughest broads you’d ever meet.”

Natasha nodded, hand held over her heart. “They served their country, whether anyone knew it or not.”

**January 6th, 2012:**  
 **Long Island, United States.  
14:00**

Coldsprings Hill was a nursing home with a highly regarded staff, and beautiful scenery; it also happened to be the residence of one Marcus Valentine. Natasha found him in the resident lounge, wheelchair pulled up to one of the two windows, watching as the snow fell outside. She knocked on the wall, watching as Marcus turned to meet her. “I remember you,” he said, adjusting the blanket over his lap. 

“Do you?”

“Of course, you haven’t aged a day, and I mean that...no pickup line there.”

Natasha laughed, taking a seat in front of him. With a nervous flutter, she removed the ring from the pocket of her petticoat, handing it to him as his hands shook. He studied it for a moment, placing a hand over his mouth as he got choked up. “[I never thought I’d see it again...I never thought I’d see it again. Oh, the last I saw my mama.]”

“[I knew she wanted you to have it.]”

“[No, no. You keep it.]”

“[No, Marcus, it’s not mine to keep.]”

“[This. This is Virginia’s ring. You know my granddaughter, Virginia?]”

Natasha nodded her head, smiling sweetly at him. “[I do.]”

“[You’ll take good care of her, won’t you? When I’m gone.]”

“[It’s my New Years resolution, Marcus.]”

Marcus waved his hand, tears still gleaming in his eyes. “[That’s not my name, dear,]” he said. “[My name is Marco. Marco Voloshin, son of Vita Voloshin and nephew of Oksana Voloshin.]”

“[Yes. Yes you are, Marco. Never forget.]”

“[And you are Natalia?]”

Natasha stood, leaning down as she placed a kiss to his forehead. “No, I like being Natasha. Natalia was a distant part of me. All the good things in my life call me Natasha.”

Marco smiled, and it was as though he were a little boy again. “Then Natasha it is.”


End file.
